Whoever reads my words is inventing them

'Bread-and-cheese! Does Mr. Gibson eat cheese?'

'Yes; he's very fond of it,' said Molly, innocently. 'I've known him eat toasted cheese when he has been too tired to fancy anything else.'

'Oh! but, my dear, we must change all that. I shouldn't like to think of your father eating cheese; it's such a strong-smelling, coarse kind of thing. We must get him a cook who can toss him up an omelette, or something elegant. Cheese is only fit for the kitchen.'

'Papa is very fond of it,' persevered Molly.

'Oh! but we will cure him of that. I couldn't bear the smell of cheese; and I'm sure he would be sorry to annoy me.'

. . .

'Don't get any dainties for me, my dear; bread and cheese is the chief of my diet, like it was that of the old woman's.'

'I know nothing of your old woman,' replied his wife; 'but really I cannot allow cheese to come beyond the kitchen.'


Elisabeth Gaskell
Wives and Daughters